Chapter Text
Jack Frost thrived in the sky. It was his playground, his home away from home. It was where he felt the most free, where the only sound he could hear over the whistling winds was his own laughter echoing back at him.
The sky was his.
Sure, North had his sleigh and Tooth had her wings, but they didn’t own the skies. They didn’t have the wind at their very beck and call, his closest friend for the last three-hundred years. Jack didn’t command the winds though; sometimes the winds were rough and wild and uncontrollable, which Jack loved all the more. As wild and untamed as they were, even on their worst days, he knew they would never harm him.
Which was why he wasn’t too concerned when the winds didn’t seem to be listening to him very well that day.
“Just having a rough day, huh, Wind?” he called with a laugh as he spun higher into the clouds, laughing. The wind was churning around him, agitated.
Maybe it was just in a bad mood? That happened frequently, especially in the cold months of January.
Regardless, the sky was still his and his alone; which was why he hadn’t expected to run into anybody. Much less smack directly into something dark and bony, which yelped just as loudly as Jack did when they were both sent hurtling through the air.
The confusion lasted all of two seconds, long enough for bafflement to settle into his bones before he realized—ow! Flying into someone at mach speeds hurts. Only years of senselessly performing stunts and free-falls through the air prevented him from being torn from his flight path. Just with a few more bruises.
“Hey! Watch it!” Jack cried after doing a few somersaults, barely managing to right himself. The wind was suddenly extremely wobbly and unstable around him, like it threatened to drop him at any moment.
He was able to finally register that the dark bony thing was a man—no, a spirit in the shape of a man… Kind of. He was covered in black and brown leather, and a dark helmet shielded his face from Jack. He was pretty sure it was a man, but he had no idea what kind of face this spirit hid under that mask. For all he knew, he could be some kind of humanoid lizard spirit.
What was the most interesting thing about him was the leather wings tied to his arms, and how he floated effortlessly in the wind just as Jack did.
Exactly like Jack did…
“Who the hell are you?” Jack looked him up and down, utterly bewildered.
The stranger startled, finally righting himself so he could turn to Jack. “Jack—” he coughed, before continuing, “Jack Frost?”
Jack’s eyebrows raised.
“...Do I know you?” he asked slowly, trying to find something familiar about his figure, his mask, or even his weird nasally voice, but nothing rang any bells. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Oh, no no, I uh…” Facing away from Jack, the spirit then turned towards the horizon and started to drift away. “I keep to myself.”
“So you know who I am but I still don’t know who you are.” He squinted even more curiously at the stranger, a grin growing at this new mystery. It wasn’t often that he met a brand new spirit, after all.
A nervous chuckle is what he received as a reply. “Oh, well everyone knows who you are nowadays. There hasn’t been a new Guardian in centuries. Word gets around.”
“Okay, so who are you? And how are you flying?” Jack swooped through the air until he was suddenly in front of the other spirit, trying to squint through the eye holes of his mask. He caught a flash of green, but that was all he saw as the spirit quickly ducked his head.
“I control the wind– among other things.”
Jack blanched, staring at him.
“Control the wind?” he echoed. “Like, you’re friends with the wind? I thought I was the only spirit who was friends with it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say friends,” he said. “You’re the cold, but you’re also Jack Frost. It’s the same with me.”
For the first time in three-hundred years, a chill ran down Jack Frost’s spine. He stared agape at the spirit.
“Wait… you’re the… You’re the wind?” he spluttered. This was the spirit responsible for the wind? The wind that had been his closest companion, his only friend for over three-hundred years?
“Why haven’t I met you before? How—how long have you been a spirit?” Jack cried, a laugh bubbling in his chest when the spirit looped over him and free-fell. Jack quickly followed after. “Wait! Wait, hold on, I didn’t know you had a corporeal form!”
“I aim to surprise,” the spirit drawled, ignoring the first question and giving a vague answer to the second.
“Hey— wait! Slow down, I just wanna talk!” Jack cried as he chased after the spirit who was quickly speeding away. Not only speeding away, he was heading into a city! “Hey! Wind! Wait!”
Something suspiciously like a sigh carried through the wind and into Jack’s ears. Why was he avoiding Jack? Sure, he had a bit of a reputation for being an annoyance, but c’mon! He was a Guardian now, surely that gave him some credibility?
Didn’t their companionship the last three-hundred years mean anything?
Deep down, past the insane curiosity, there was confusion and a little bit of hurt. Jack had been under the impression that he and the wind were friends. An odd pair, for sure, but the wind had guided him during his escapades and encouraged him for over three-hundred years. So why was this spirit running away?
Almost as if sensing his turmoil, wind rippled through his hoodie and spurred him on, sending him further and faster. As the spirit dipped around and over the city, Jack followed close behind, quickly gaining distance with every passing second. A smile slowly started to cross his face– control the wind, he had said?
The spirit seemed to realize Jack was gaining on him, because he startled and said, “Wha– Really?! Does a thousand years mean nothing to you, Wind?!”
That made him gasp. “You’re a thousand years old?!” Jack cried back.
“I moisturize,” the spirit once more drawled.
Jack angled his body, managing to zip even closer to the speeding spirit. Despite Jack’s speed, he was pretty good at out-maneuvering him. Though, he had more than seven-hundred years on Jack in that department.
“Hey, I’m not giving up until I get some answers!” he yelled over the gusts screaming over his ears. “Why haven’t we met before? Why are you just showing up now?! Are you actually the wind?!”
“Like I said,” the spirit answered, though his voice was tense and curt, as if he wished he weren’t answering at all. “I keep to myself.”
“I mean, I suppose that’s fair,” Jack laughed. His laugh was suddenly caught off short with a yelp as a large gust of wind pushed him faster, careening more out of control and smashing into the wind spirit, the both of them tumbling and landing onto a roof. Jack’s shoulder got the brunt of the impact as he tumbled, rolling to a stop with a wheeze. “Ow… you’d think after a thousand-years you’d learn how to control your gusts a little better,” he groaned, but he laughed as he rose to his feet and looked at the spirit still lying on his back in what appeared to be defeat.
Jack slung his staff over his shoulder, walking over to the spirit and tilting his head. He held out his hand in offering.
“Name’s Jack Frost,” he grinned down at him. “Which you obviously already know, but it’s nice to properly introduce myself. So what’s your actual name?”
The spirit hesitated, before accepting Jack’s hand and rising to his feet. Well– foot and prosthetic, which Jack eyed with curiosity. “You can just call me Wind.”
Jack wrinkled his nose. “Why? Do you not have an actual name? That one’s just boring, by the way.”
The spirit threw his hands in the air, before pacing the roof and seemingly beginning to check his suit for damages. “Then– whatever! I don’t care what you call me.”
“Okay then, Whatever,” Jack grinned, leaning against his staff. “So uh… How come I’ve never met you before?”
The spirit whirled around, his green eyes narrowing under his mask at the name. He seemed to choose against pointing it out, though, since he sighed and shook his head. “I’m busy. Winds to control, dragons to train.”
“Drag— What?” Jack blinked rapidly. “Did you just say dragons?”
The spirit flinched, as if he hadn’t meant to divulge that piece of information, which made Jack all the more fascinated. He was often told by those whose business he stuck his nose into that, ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ but he was always ready with the reply, ‘But satisfaction brought him back.’ And this was no exception. This spirit that was apparently ten centuries old — who was the embodiment of the wind itself, who claimed to tame dragons — how could Jack not get bright eyed and fascinated with this new revelation?
“Yes, dragons,” the spirit continued, backing away as if to avoid Jack’s curiosity. He clapped his hands, before laughing awkwardly, “Which, wow, look at the time. I should really get back to it.”
“Wait, wait, hold on—can I come with you?” Jack asked with a large grin, his eyes wider and brighter than ever before. “I’ve always wanted to see dragons! I didn't even know they were real! Three hundred years, and I’d never even heard of them before! Where are they? How do I find them?!”
“Uhhh,” the spirit said, which was very clear phrasing for, ‘I want to say no but I have no idea how to word that.’
Jack’s smile slowly faded as his heart sank. The wind really didn’t want him around… did he?
Jack would never admit it, but it stung. He slowly started to frown.
“...Do you… I mean—” Jack shoved his hand into his pocket, his other gripping his staff tightly. “Your… your wind, your presence, it… It meant a lot to me when I first woke up as a spirit. I guess I was wondering if… I mean, you’ve helped me a lot over the years…”
Shit, he was rambling. Jack hated that he was rambling. He clamped his jaw shut, trying to find the right words to say without making himself sound like a sappy idiot.
The spirit stared, and Jack shifted under the intensity of it. He hadn’t meant for all that to come to the surface, but the Wind had been his confidant during all the years of isolation and endless silence. To stand in front of that friend, finally able to share those feelings, they wanted to boil to the surface and spill over. But this spirit clearly didn’t want to hear them.
“... Y’know what, nevermind,” he mumbled, backing up. He felt stupid. He felt like a child with the way he hoped the wind thought of him as a friend, too.
“... Maybe someday,” the spirit muttered, turning his gaze to the side and rubbing the back of his neck where dark red hair peeked through the helmet. “The dragons, they can be, uh. Touchy, with new people.”
Jack didn’t know why, but something about how the spirit said that made him frown. Was he lying?
“...Right,” he said softly. “Okay. Um… it—uh… it was cool to meet you in person, I guess.”
God he sounded like an idiot. He should say something else, but what? Thanks for keeping me company all those years? That sounded horribly sentimental, and Jack was anything but.
“For the record,” the spirit started to say, perched near the edge of the building with his back to Jack. “It was nice meeting you too.”
Jack stared at the spirit, a swell of mixed feelings running through him.
“Yeah… uh, see you around, then, Whatever,” he smirked, resting his staff on his shoulders.
He received a sigh as a response. “Work on that name for next time,” he said, before once more flinching.
Jack’s heart immediately lifted at the idea of a next time, then immediately wondered why the spirit had such a reaction. But he can’t stop the smile on his face anymore. Starved for connection as he is, he can’t help but be glad at the insinuation, even with the odd reaction.
“Maybe if you gave me some clues, I’d be able to think of a better one,” Jack shot back at him. “I can think of a bunch of names. Harvey? Newton? Mason? Diangelo? Nah, you’d need a wind-related name. How about Burp? Fart? Silent but Deadly?” He listed more and more crass names off the top of his head.
“For the love of the Gods, no to all of those,” the spirit replied, but for the first time since Jack crashed into him, there’s a hint of a laugh in his voice.
Jack grinned even wider, knowing he was starting to find what made this spirit laugh.
“No? Well, then… How about something like… I dunno, Gale?” Jack rubbed his chin.
“That…” he said, before humming in thought.
Jack’s eyes brightened. “You like it!” he laughed. “Okay, then, Gale.”
“It’ll do,” the spirit responded.
With a nod towards Jack, the spirit raised a foot before falling over the edge of the building. Only a mere second passed before the wind caught him and propelled him into the sky, only the silhouette of wings staring back at Jack.
Jack watched the spirit fly off with fascination in his eyes, more questions starting to build in his head. Gale hadn’t seemed cold, and he dared say he even enjoyed Jack’s company slightly. So the winning question is why was he so determined to avoid Jack?
Maybe Jack had just caught him on a particularly bad day? Perhaps Jack would have to go looking for him again… if he could even find him. How was it that he’d never run into him in three-hundred years until now? Was he just good at hiding? Did he not like to be around other spirits?
More and more questions spun in his head. Jack frowned as he kicked off the ground, the wind once again carrying him— though it was slightly less agitated than before, he noticed. He smiled at that, as he turned northward.
Maybe North would know something about this wind spirit. If Jack was lucky, maybe he’d even find out Gale’s actual name before their next encounter.
Jack had not been lucky.
In fact, he’d go as far to say they’d taken a step backwards.
Over the next few weeks, he ran into (sometimes literally) the wind spirit a few more times; but each time Gale had a habit of saying very little verbally while saying everything else with his demeanor. While Jack would fire question after question, adding in the odd joke or two, Gale would respond with one worded answers and uncomfortable body language. He made it very clear he would rather be anywhere else than near Jack.
Jack just didn’t understand it. Had he done something to make the wind spirit upset with him? Did the wind spirit hate him but was too polite to say it to his face?! Jack would rather he outright say it than constantly make Jack question everything. And then there was the fact that no one seemed to know who he was.
It confounded Jack that not even the Guardians knew him or knew of him, not even enough to know his name. Just who was Gale, and why was he so intent on keeping Jack away?
“I don’t get it!” Jack cried for what felt like the thousandth time, accidentally knocking over one of North’s ice sculptures. He was pacing the workshop, working himself into a frenzy as he ranted to the large spirit.
“Is easy to get, you just don’t want to admit it.” North picked up the ice sculpture, setting it carefully back into its place. Jack turned and gave him a sharp look.
“Get what?!”
“Perhaps this… Gale, as you call him, just wants to be left alone.” North raised a bushy eyebrow. “He is, as you say… introverted? Is that right term?”
Jack immediately wanted to refute this, but knew he didn't have anything to say to reject the idea. Hell, if anything, that explanation made sense… he begrudgingly supposed. But there was a part of him that couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on.
Something else had to be going on.
“But why now?” he hissed. “Why do I run into him now? Why didn’t I ever see or run into him before? Sure, he’s hard to track down, but I’ve been able to find him a few times now. And yeah, he always dips as soon as he can, but it just… something isn’t making any sense,” he rubbed his face. A headache was starting to form in his temple.
“Jack,” North said, in a voice that immediately had Jack halting. He sat in his chair, arms braced over his knees, but he was at Jack’s height still. “There is danger, looking into what doesn’t want to be found.”
Jack made a face. “What can be so dangerous about Gale, huh?” he retorted.
“Perhaps not Gale,” North went on to say. “But what Gale is trying to hide, yes?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” Jack said, throwing his hands into the air. “What is he hiding? Why is he hiding it?!”
“Why are you so invested?”
“Because—come on, North! He’s the Wind!” Jack cried. “My one friend for the last three-hundred years, and— and even though I never talked to him, I still considered him my friend. But if he doesn’t feel the same way…”
He stared out the window, his heart sinking horribly. He coughed, clearing his throat of an annoying itch, crossing his arms and looked back at North with a defiant look.
“If he did not want you around, he would say so,” North sighed, turning to his table and picking up one of his several ice-pics.
Jack groaned, leaning against one of his bookshelves, sullen.
“Maybe I just wanna know why,” he muttered. “Why is he avoiding me? I can never get a straight answer out of him.”
North regarded Jack for a few moments, fiddling with the miniature ice pick in his fingertips.
“These things… take time,” he said after a moment. “You say he is friend, yes? He kept you company from distance—perhaps that is his way of being friend. Don’t try to force the turtle out of its shell. Turtles like their shells, it is... A part of them. It is their nature. You cannot force someone to be something they are not, Jack.”
Jack crossed his arms tighter, glaring sullenly out the window.
“I guess,” he finally muttered.
“If Gale wishes to be closer friend, he will come to you. So give Gale the space he wants, and do not stop him from being a friend from distance, yes? Perhaps that is where he feels most comfortable.”
Jack’s shoulders sagged heavily, his fingers running down the wooden ridges of his staff. He focused on the grains of the wood and the frost growing thick between them, trying to ignore how dejected he felt.
“Yeah,” he muttered again. “I guess.”
“Do not feel so down,” North said. “Things work out. You must let them happen at own pace.”
Jack pushed off the shelf, walking for the window. The frost was beginning to seep from his form, leaving trails of ferns along North’s floors. He had a feeling his mood wasn’t going to brighten, and North wouldn’t appreciate him freezing his whole workshop, no matter how cold it already was.
“Fine,” he grunted.
“Why do I have feeling you’ve ignored what I’ve said?”
Jack smiled ruefully, glancing at North. “Now what makes you say that?” he said, opening the window and hopping up onto the ledge. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean.”
He jumped before North could reply, letting the wind carry him out towards the sky.
How was he supposed to pretend everything was fine when he was constantly reminded of the Wind’s existence? He soared above the clouds, closing his eyes.
“...Can you hear me, Wind?” he whispered to it. “Have you always been able to hear me? Or am I speaking to deaf ears?”
Like always, the wind did not reply.
Jack frowned, as the wind shifted and spun him. For a moment, he wondered if he had accidentally slipped into a particularly harsh current, but this felt… off. Like the wind was agitated, and couldn’t help but swim and swish to get that frustration across where it couldn’t voice it.
“Wind?” he whispered, opening his eyes.
Once more there was no reply– not that he was expecting one. But the air was silent and still, like it was waiting for something.
Something suddenly slammed into him — something big and growling and — flying?!
“Whoa! What the—?!” he screeched, taking a few seconds to turn and set himself back on course. The dragon – because what else could it be? – roared, a sound that sent shivers up his spine but awe running through his veins.
It was as large as a horse, with wings that stretched out like a bat’s. It was a deep black, but its head was nothing like what Jack imagined a dragon’s head to be like. If he had to compare it to anything, it looked like an axolotl.
The dragon flapped its wings, the wind swirling around him like a tempest. A half second later, Jack realized that the dragon was controlling it much the same way he himself could. It was staring at Jack intently with large green eyes.
“Uhh… hey, big guy. Can I help you?” he said with a startled laugh, before shaking his head at himself. “What am I saying? It’s a dragon. What could it possibly need help with?”
The dragon suddenly dove for him, grabbing the hood of his hoodie with his teeth. Jack was yanked along by the creature with an undignified screech, speeding on the fastest winds in gods knew what direction.
“Wha– Hey!” he shouted, writhing around in the dragon’s grip. But no matter how much he struggled, the dragon refused to drop him. “I’m all stick and bones, I promise I don’t taste good!”
The dragon growled in agitation, shaking its large, salamander-like head. It swooped upwards, climbing high into the atmosphere at a breakneck speed.
A clap of thunder hit Jack’s ears, and he wondered if they had just broken the sound barrier.
The dragon suddenly released Jack and he tumbled in surprise, spinning through the air and quickly righted himself again. Part of him was compelled to fly away from this crazy kidnapping dragon, but another part of him was curious. Clearly this dragon didn’t intend to cause him harm, so he must have some sort of intent in mind?
The dragon let out another gurgling roar that sounded like… a plea? It turned, showing Jack its back, and looked at him intently.
Was it asking Jack to get on his back?
Jack stared at the dragon, his curiosity getting the better of him. Gale worked with dragons, maybe… maybe Gale had sent this dragon to him? Maybe Gale was finally going to start answering his questions?
His heart pounded in excitement. He flew over to the dragon, landing on the soft leathery hide of its back. “Okay. Lead the way,” he said, though he awkwardly tried to find a place to rest his hands. Not that it really mattered– if he fell he could catch himself.
The dragon growled and they took off again through the clouds at speeds Jack himself was impressed with.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know a crazy guy with fake wings, do you? He says he takes care of you guys, but he’s not very forthcoming about details.”
The dragon whirled its head to him before giving a gummy grin, bobbing its large head.
Wait, since when was the dragon toothless?
The toothless dragon faced forward again, baring its gummy jaws. Lightning suddenly began to crackle over its form, startling Jack.
“Hey, hey, wait—you’re not gonna fry me, are you?!” he cried as some lightning sparked dangerously close to his legs. If the dragon heard him, he ignored him, a charge building up as more electricity zapped on its wings. The clouds around them began to crackle as well, a whirlwind forming around them.
The hairs on Jack’s head began to stand on end, more than they already did.
Crack-BOOM!
Thunder clapped through the air again, pounding through Jack’s eardrums. Lightning shot through the sky in an arc, racing towards them in branches of light. Jack instinctively shut his eyes and ducked his head, bowing until his form was completely pressed flat against the dragon’s back. It wouldn’t do anything to protect him from the pain, but instincts didn’t much care about rationality.
… Except it didn’t hurt.
Cautiously, he opened his eyes and raised his head, a gasp falling from his lips as he watched the lightning dance across the dragon’s black scales. There was a prickling under his skin, but nothing more than what snowflakes felt like during his toughest of blizzards.
The dragon pulled back just a bit and gave a powerful flap of its wings. Lightning and wind burst from the gust of his wings alongside his thundering roar, exploding outwards into the storm clouds.
Jack watched in a mix of wonder and alarm as the lighting began to dance and swim through the clouds, spreading and spreading until the entire sky was lit up by light. It was almost blinding.
The black storm clouds began to part and dissipate, like curtains being drawn back from a stage. Lights suddenly appeared — few at first, but then more and more growing in number as the clouds drew back.
Jack’s jaw fell open.
It was a floating… ship? Castle? Something! The grand building was massive, built of stone and towers, and as the rest of the clouds rolled back it was revealed to be standing above waterfalls and expansive forests. A mountain? This far north?!
No, the mountain itself was floating. But that wasn’t all.
The more the clouds separated, the more land was exposed. There seemed to be six floating islands in total; first was a giant landmass of water, falling endlessly into the sky, dissipating into and becoming one with the clouds. A large structure of ice spikes sat in the middle, a sight that left Jack breathless and slightly intimidated.
Next was a large, empty land of rock where a volcano dripped lava. The lava would dip into crevices, but wouldn’t fall off the island. Was it in a constant loop of eruption?
After that was another land of rock, but held a sea of sand as well.
Finally there were two islands connected with each other, both thick with trees and vines but in different ways. One seemed to be more of a swamp, the other a jungle-like biome.
That wasn’t the most amazing thing, though. There were shapes moving through the sky, little specs that Jack had to squint to see. But when he did, he gave a startled laugh. “Wow,” he breathed, leaning up and trying to make sense of all the dragons flying above and around him. So many different shapes and colors, he had a hard time sticking to one dragon to study.
“So this is where you guys live,” he said, absentmindedly patting the dragon beginning to purr under him. “Can’t say I don’t blame you for not leaving.”
Except this dragon had.
Jack frowned, recalling the nearly frantic way the dragon had crashed into him and dragged him home. There’d been a reason for that, hadn’t there?
“I think you have something to show me, don’t you?” he asked softly, leaning forward and patting the dragon again.
The dragon shook its head and rumbled worriedly, flapping faster as it headed for the giant building in the center. It didn’t head for the main doors, though, but rather to the very top; to a small tower.
“There’s no princess for me to rescue, is there?” he laughed, but he couldn’t help but feel worried regardless. The closer they got to the building, the more frantic his new friend seemed to be.
They landed on a wooden deck and the dragon bounded towards a large door, shoving it open with its head. It let out a gargling roar as it raced inside with Jack still on its back.
“Toothless, I told you to stay away—” A cough interrupted the familiar, nasally voice. “—stupid—you stupid reptile!”
The voice was coming from a loft above Jack’s head.
Toothless growled indignantly, marching up some wooden stairs and stopped at the top, his large ears pricked up. Jack hopped off Toothless’s back, his eyes landing on a figure lying in an uncomfortable looking wooden bed.
The first thing Jack noticed was the many blue petals covering and surrounding the bed. The second was Gale seemed to not be wearing any of his usual leather armor, or even his mask.
Gale’s face was somehow both not what he’d expected, and yet exactly what he thought it would be. Freckled, pale, with shaggy auburn hair that framed his long face, and a spectacularly round nose.
“Gale?” he croaked as he stared at him for the first time fully.
“Jack,” Gale breathed, green eyes wide and full of horror. Jack had never seen them this clearly, and he couldn’t help but be a little awed by them. Gale gulped, before his features twisted and he shoved his face into his pillow, mumbling, “No– no, no. Why’d you bring him here, Toothless?”
“He seemed really worried. Are you okay? You look… uh, not good.” Jack approached him quickly, reaching out for him.
Gale scrambled back, as if fearing his touch. Jack halted.
“I’ll be fine,” Gale said, before erupting into a coughing fit. More petals fell from his lips and onto his hands, but Jack could hardly pay attention to the way Gale’s face twisted when all his attention was focused on the red staining the flowers. “You should go–”
“What’s— Gale, what’s wrong?” Jack croaked. “I can go get help, I can bring you to North, he would know what to do! I think. He might at least know what’s wrong! Or Tooth, or, or Sandy, even?!”
A cynical chuckle fell from Gale’s lips next. “They already know. And I don’t want their help.”
Jack froze, staring at him.
“... What?” he protested. “What do you mean they already know?! Know what?! That you’re sick?!”
“Among other things,” Gale sighed, collapsing back into his pillow. Now that Jack was looking closer, there was a fine layer of sweat clinging to his forehead, sticking his dark red hair there.
“Gale, let me help you,” Jack pleaded, setting down his staff beside the bed. “I’m not leaving until you at least tell me what’s wrong.”
Gale flinched, before turning his gaze away. His hands tightened into fists on top of the bedspread. “Nothing you can do will fix this.”
Jack felt his heart plummet at the grave tone in Gale’s voice.
“Wh… you mean, this, whatever this is, it’s incurable?” Jack croaked. “What even is this… disease? Is it a curse?”
“Something like that,” Gale replied, answering nothing at all. Jack wanted to be mad, but he looked so miserable and helpless as he rested his head, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
“Gale…” Jack slowly sat on the bed at Gale’s feet. “Is there… Anything I can do?”
“I just–” Gale said, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. A furrow appeared in his brow. “I just want to be alone.”
Jack watched him, his heart sinking even further. He frowned, tucking his knees into his chest as he wrapped his legs around them, looking away.
“...Can I at least be here for you?” he finally asked. “The way you were there for me? For three-hundred years? I won’t… say anything,” he whispered. “It’ll be like I’m not even here. But… you have no idea what your presence meant to me, when I was alone. I just want to repay the favor, Gale.”
For a few, endless seconds, there wasn’t a response. Until, with a croaky exhale, Gale responded, “Just… for a little while…”
It was a small victory, at least.
“Is there anything I can get you…?” Jack asked, honestly feeling utterly useless. There was a quiet rumble beside him, and when he turned he saw Toothless crawling closer, staying low to the ground on his belly. It looked like he was trying to sneakily get closer to Gale without him noticing, his eyes large and puppy-like.
“No,” Gale answered quietly, huffing an annoyed laugh when he spotted Toothless, though he made no move to shove him away. “Just stay a while.”
Jack nodded with a tight smile, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.
A tense silence grew between them. Jack fidgeted, looking around to distract himself. Something sparkling caught his eye on a shelf beside the bed, and he lifted his head to get a better look.
“Huh.” He got up and walked over to the shelf, picking up what seemed to be a perfect ice sculpture of Toothless. “This is nice. You ice sculpt for a hobby? Almost looks like I made it,” he chuckled as he turned it over, impressed.
Gale gave a sharp breath, before chuckling nervously. “Yeah, uh. Thousand years can leave you pretty bored.”
“I can imagine.” Jack set it back down, but couldn’t help but notice there were many more small ice sculptures decorating the space, on the shelves, even some on a wooden desk in the corner. Jack slowly began to frown, looking at each and every one of them intently.
Something was… familiar about them.
“Wait, hold on.” He picked another one up, giving it a squint as he stared at the frost covering its surface. “This… this is my handiwork. It has my permafrost on it so it won’t melt.” He stared at Gale, confused. “Why do you have my ice sculptures?”
“Uhh.” Gale started to sit up, avoiding Jack’s gaze and coughing quietly into his fist. “What can I say? I’m a fan.”
“... A fan?” Jack stared incredulously, growing frustrated. Something sharp and bitter began to grow in his chest, and he couldn’t help but hiss, “So you won’t talk to me, you push me away, but you collect my ice sculptures? How—how did you even get these?! I don’t remember making them! What's your deal, Gale?!”
“Hiccup.”
Jack was caught off guard. He stared at him confused.
“...What?”
Running a hand through his hair, Gale sighed a shaky exhale and said with a choked voice, “My name. It’s Hiccup.”
“... Hiccup,” Jack echoed. Had this been any other moment, any other day, he would have immediately started to tease him for such a strange name. But he couldn’t bring himself to now. “...Okay. What else can you tell me?” he prompted somewhat hopefully, trying to shove his anger aside.
But Hiccup shook his head. “That’s all I can give you. This is already–” He cut himself off, wincing and frowning. “That’s it.”
“All you can give me?” Jack echoed, the frustration boiling up again. “What sort of bullshit is that?”
The frown deepened. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth, or… I dunno! Anything other than your– your incredibly vague words. I just want to know!” he cried. “Who you are, if you even think of me as a friend! Maybe I want you to be my friend!” he cried.
“I can’t give you that.”
A pit grew in Jack’s stomach as he stepped back, clenching his jaw.
“Why?” he demanded.
With a sharp inhale, Hiccup fell back down to the bed. He turned away from Jack, placing his back to the rest of the room and effectively creating a wall between them. Toothless warbled worriedly, finally pressing closer and resting his snout on the bed beside Hiccup. “... I can’t give you that either.”
“Why not!?” Jack cried. “I just want answers, Hiccup! You’re so damn confusing, you keep pushing me away, you won’t accept any form of help, and I have no idea if it’s just because of this—this weird curse, or if you’re just that stupidly stubborn!”
Hiccup’s shoulders started to shake, but he continued his silence.
“Please, just let me take you to North,” Jack reached over and grasped Hiccup’s shoulder. “I can’t sit here and do nothing!”
The moment Jack’s hand landed on Hiccup’s shoulder, the wind spirit started to convulse, harsh coughs and wheezes echoing off the stone walls. Fully formed flowers spilled from his lips and he hacked, vines and stems following after, stained with blood.
Jack yanked his hand back in alarm, his anger vanishing as fear gripped his heart.
“Hiccup?!” he croaked. “Oh god, I’m sorry— shit, Hiccup!”
But Hiccup didn’t reply. He couldn’t– every breath was wasted trying to breathe past the flowers, clogging his throat and choking him silent. Toothless pressed closer, but Hiccup uselessly pushed him away with weak hands.
Jack could only watch in horror, covering his mouth.
“I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m sorry,” he croaked frantically. “Y’know what, screw it, I’m taking you to North. Toothless, help me,” he urged, gently rolling Hiccup onto his back.
Hiccup didn’t have the strength to argue. He groaned in pain, but slumped in Jack’s grasp.
The dragon immediately got up, helping Jack lift Hiccup to a sitting position and slide him onto the dragon’s back. Jack got on the dragon behind Hiccup, catching him as he went slack, boneless in his grasp. He had passed out.
“Shit— You know how to get to North’s workshop, Toothless?” Jack demanded as he gripped his staff tightly, his arms winding around Hiccup’s middle. Toothless let out a warble and bounded down the stairs, Jack holding on to Hiccup and the dragon for dear life.
Toothless burst out of the tower and took to the sky, the winds picking up speed around them and urging them along faster.
“Just hold on, Hiccup,” Jack said frantically, pressing a cold hand to Hiccup’s fevered forehead. Even in sleep, Hiccup unconsciously pressed closer and let out a relieved sigh. Jack swallowed hard, glad that he could help him in some way, even if it was small. “Just hold on,” he said, speaking past the lump in his throat.
The lightning show to cloak the dragon’s sanctuary was a lot less dazzling when Hiccup was breathing so unevenly, head rolling to rest against his chest. Every now and again, he would erupt into another coughing fit, the petals lost to the sky as Jack rubbed circles onto his back, trying to entice the fit to pass as painlessly as possible. Hiccup still groaned in pain, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
In what seemed like an eternity, and simultaneously a few minutes, the workshop was finally in sight.
“Head for that window on the third floor,” Jack cried, pointing with his staff. “His personal workshop; he should still be in there!”
Toothless roared, flapping his wings faster. The wind from both Jack and Toothless blew the window open, and the dragon burst through the small window frame — in hindsight, that might have not been a good idea, as Jack’s head was hit on the top of the window even when he’d ducked, but he was too worried to care.
“Shostacovich!” North cried as Toothless slammed into his desk, knocking over his ice sculpture. “Toothless, ‘vat is you doing here!”
“He’s—” Jack gave a start, staring at North. “How the hell do you know his name?”
North immediately tensed. He opened his mouth, as if to reply, before his eyes caught Hiccup slumped in Jack’s hold, and they widened.
“Hiccup?” he cried. “Vat is wrong with Hiccup?!”
“And you know his real name too?!” Jack jumped off Toothless, now carrying Hiccup in his arms, thankful he was at least Jack’s physique and practically weighed next to nothing. “North, if I wasn’t terrified right now, I’d be furious with you. Help me with him, he’s coughing up these weird blue petals!” he cried. “He said it's incurable!”
“He’s coughing up— oh Sergei Prokofiev,” North’s giant hand clapped his forehead. “Not him, too!”
“Him too? Him too?!” Jack cried. “North, will someone please tell me what's going on?!” he bellowed, losing his temper.
A hearty exhale left North’s mouth. He ran a hand through his beard, giving his head a small shake and rooting Jack in place with a serious stare. “Is not my place to say.”
“Not your place—?!” Jack bit his tongue, knowing he didn’t have the time to argue. “Just please tell me there’s something you can do to save Hiccup,” Jack begged with a whisper, desperate for North to say what he wanted to hear.
North’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Hiccup, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“Blue petals you say…?” he said, and as if to answer, another weak cough shook through Hiccup. North stared at the petals that fell to the floor, his eyes hard and worried.
Then, out of the blue, his eyes brightened and he tossed his head back with a booming laugh, utterly confounding Jack. North’s entire body shook with the jolly sound as he leaned against the knocked over table and wheezed. Adding insult to injury, he slapped his knee.
“How— how can you laugh at a time like this?!” Jack demanded, realising how strange it was that he of all people was saying that. “North!”
North brushed a tear from his eyes. “Oh, I have not laughed that hard in very long time,”
“Why are you laughing?!” Jack cried.
“Jack,” North said, calming himself and giving a reassuring grin to Jack. “I believe I have cure for your problem. Both your problems.”
“...Both?” Jack stared at him blankly. “What do you mean both?”
North turned and gestured to the door of his study, where Toothless began to bound to. “We place Hiccup in more comfortable room, yes? Then we have much to talk about.”
“Okay.” Jack followed him, gripping Hiccup more tightly. He looked down at him, as Hiccup’s head rolled to lay against Jack’s shoulder. A pained groan softly exited his lips, where a speck of blood was staining the corner. The sight made Jack’s chest tighten. “You’re going to be okay, Hiccup. I promise.”
Hiccup didn’t answer, but his face seemed to relax.